One Last Thing: How to live with the end in mind

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Wendy discusses choices and possibilities, explores the views of both those who support and oppose assisted dying, of carers and politicians. As Wendy reminds us: We talk so often about prolonging life, but we are actually prolonging death by not discussing the suffering part of it.’ Today, a simple task, like remembering to water the flowers that she loves, requires foresight and canniness. The same goes for remembering to drink and eat: she has sound alerts saved on her phone to prompt her. Over the past nine years, much has changed, yet one thing has remained doggedly in place: a determination to live in the now – while also planning for a future that’s been cruelly accelerated. It hasn’t been easy for Mitchell, now 67, to get here, nor has the path been a linear one. It doesn’t take a poet laureate to realise that these mismatched stripes of grass are a powerful metaphor in Mitchell’s increasingly foggy world. “If you accept that the lines won’t be straight then it relaxes the effort of doing things,” she says. “It doesn’t matter any more. It doesn’t matter if they’re wiggly.” Perhaps this has been Mitchell’s biggest mission since she was diagnosed nine years ago: to show us all what she – and the more than 850,000 people who also have dementia in the UK – can do in spite of the odds. That might sound daunting and morbid, but the alternative doesn’t bear thinking about. “To have no autonomy, no independence, to be totally reliant on others for when and how I do things, is not the life today’s Wendy wants for future Wendy,” Mitchell says firmly. She adds that she doesn’t want sympathy: fair enough. But I hope, instead, she will accept the gratitude of everyone who reads this urgent, humane manifesto on how to care for and about those edging towards the finality of death.

There is something uniquely disquieting about opening what’s billed as “the final book” of an author who, although alive, is preparing for imminent death. One Last Thing by Wendy Mitchell is just such a book. I say “imminent”, but only in the sense that as Mitchell recounts her rapid physical and intellectual declinem due to young-onset vascular dementia and Alzheimer’s disease, she knows that time, her time, is running out. This clear-eyed call to arms makes it evident that Mitchell will do her damnedest to die on her own terms.You have interviewed and met such a wide range of people for this book. What was the conversation that most took you by surprise or the most enlightening?

Anyone who reads Mitchell's work can only admire her passion, her energy and her extraordinary courage' SUNDAY TIMES In One Last Thing, Wendy embarks on a journey to explore all angles of death: how we can prepare for it, how we talk about it with our loved ones and how we can be empowered to make our own choices. With conversations on the topic of assisted dying, from those who are fighting to make it legal to those vehemently opposed to its practice, Wendy reminds us that to get on with the business of living, we need to talk about death. In this her third book, Wendy raises and faces difficult questions, possibilities, choices and present day options for self control for end of life head on. She takes on the views and perspectives of medical staff, Carers and politicians and challenges the unfairness of being denied the choice of when and how to end your life. Wendy also offers her own experience of end of life directives and how to maintain some control over end of days. While living with her diagnosis and facing the extreme changes that come along with a progressive terminal illness, Wendy wrote two Sunday Times-bestselling books, went skydiving for the first time and supports multiple dementia advocacy groups in the UK. She is known for talking about living with dementia, but now - while she is still able to - she explores dying with it. The task of raising the topic of death and a conversation around it can be daunting to many, but without that conversation, however challenging how can we be certain our directives and wishes will be honoured? It is my belief, even more so now that some do not wish to discuss death because it forces them to confront their own mortality; or perhaps they don’t want to cause loved ones pain around something that as Wendy writes, is a 100% certainty- we are all going to die.This is a difficult topic. Most of us don’t want to be reminded of our mortality. I find Wendy inspirational. I have read each of her books and I follow her blog https://whichmeamitoday.wordpress.com/ As I read this book, I am reminded of the conversations we each need to have (and some of us avoid) about choices. Yes, many of us have wills and make provisions for funeral arrangements and for dependents, some of us have advance care directives (or are thinking about it). Those of us avoiding these issues and discussions assume that we will have time and will have the ability to make such decisions. But ability to make such decisions cannot be taken for granted: a brain injury, mental incapacity or advanced dementia might intervene.

This beautiful book will give hope and courage to many people. An uplifting and courageous read' - Kathryn Mannix You have inspired and moved us all with your first book Somebody I Used to Know about your diagnosis with early onset dementia, illuminated and demystified a disease many fear, but little understand with What I Wish People Knew About Dementia. Why did you decide to write One Last Thing? The sky’s the limit: Wendy Mitchell walking the 1,000ft highwire Infinity Bridge in Cumbria – ‘The hardest thing I’ve ever done.’Ultimately this is going to continue to be a long road of political debate and not something that is likely to be available in the very near future. It raises powerful emotions from those on both sides of the argument of assisted death. If anything, Mitchell has turned into a bit of a daredevil as her condition has intensified. Last year, she went wing walking. A month ago, she walked the Infinity Bridge, a highwire suspended 1,000ft above sea level, strung across the Honister Slate Mine in Cumbria. “It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done,” she says proudly and with a smile. Later this year, she’s set to abseil down London’s 225m-tall “Cheesegrater” Leadenhall Building.

Before Mitchell was diagnosed, she was afraid of so much. “Now, when I lie in the dark, there isn’t any worry whatsoever. And that’s because I think, ‘Crikey, if I can face dementia, why should I worry about anything else?’” If the last nine years have taught her anything, it’s the importance of time and how not to take it for granted. “The only certainty we have in life is this moment. No one knows what’s round the corner. People always say, when I retire I’ll do this, or next year I’ll do that. And I say to them, ‘Why not now?’ Because, if it’s that important, don’t wait for the future, because it might not come.”

Books by Wendy Mitchell

Talking about the future enables us to live in the now, Mitchell argues. It eradicates the “what ifs”. At the heart of Mitchell’s third book are her two daughters: “the most important people in my life”. None of these conversations have been easy to have with them, she readily admits. That said, what would be the alternative? “Imagine the distress I could cause if I could no longer speak and could only watch things happening. Imagine the sadness of them falling out and not being able to reconcile. Imagine the trauma I would have caused for them both in my death if we haven’t talked.”